Tuesday, November 6, 2007

UPDATE: If you weren't able to view the videos, I've since fixed it...Enjoy!I am writing this post mostly for myself, and since I already know it will be a long one, y'all don't have to stick around to read it. The reason is I want to capture as much as I can from from Sunday, from marathon day. I want to simply list all the thoughts that I had while I ran, small snippets that I might want to hang on to, that might be forgotten if I don't record them now while they are still fresh in my mind. This way, in a couple of months from now, when that itch to do something weird, crazy, challenging and somewhat insane (like say, run a marathon?) hits again - because oh, you know it will - I can have good, solid facts to base my decisions on. Also, quite frankly, family and friends are getting a bit sick and tired or hearing me blabber on about the run, so this post is also for their sake. So here it goes, a list of things I need to remember from this run, both good and bad.

The giggling madness and excitement at 5 a.m. in the morning on the bus ride to Staten Island.

Forcing down a peanut butter bagel and coffee down without gagging.

4 hours of waiting, in the cold, with constant butterflies in my stomach.

Porta-Potties... stinky, smelly, nasty, dirty, porta-potties.

Being asked by two girls to take a picture of them and finding out they are not only Italian, they are from my home town of Verona!

A surge of pride in my gut as I tied the race chip to my shoes (or as I watched Elizabeth tie the chip because my hands were too cold and twitchy)...

Snipers at the start line. Huh?

Final freak-out.

The sound of that cannon blast at 10:08am.

Seeing the first wave of runners on the Verrazano bridge, and feeling the crowd around me explode.

Everyone discarding the extra layers of clothes (don't worry, they are sent to charity).

Crossing that start line... finally.

The calm quiet on the bridge, with only the noise of thumping feet and breathing accompanying us.

Catching the first glimpse of the City's skyline, visualizing the route ahead and that finish line in Central Park.

Looking for Alex and Shamim Maani as we approached the 59th Street Bridge and being blown away by seeing our family and friends there as well!

Getting rid of my camera.

The pitch black lower level of 59th Street Bridge - mostly uphill.

The madness of First Avenue.

Josh&Sophie spotting us in the crowd, screaming and running after us.

Seeing Shamim et al, again, eagerly awaiting us.

Mile 18 and 19 flying by thanks to the buzz on First Avenue.

The Bronx, the drums, the temptation of a pretzel and thankfully the quick return to Manhattan.

Stomach pain at the thought of another Gu, Marathon Jelly Bean or Fruit Gusher.

The physical inability of downing any more Gatorade.

A tingling feeling in my arms, hands and fingers that I just can't shake away.

The beeping sound of the check point as we cross the 35km post.

Finally being back on 5th Avenue and at the same time basking in the crowds and trying to drown out the noise from my head.

Being refused Tylenol at the medical station and consequently being on the verge of tears.

Hearing Elizabeth mumbling prayers to herself and me, praying silently in my head that I can make it through.

The excruciating length of miles 22 and 23.

Coach Christine running up to me, grabbing me a Gatorade, talking me through the rest of the course, telling me the entrance to Central Park is just a few blocks up and then, well then... "You're nearly home".

The curve into Central Park - tears stinging me eyes, and struggling to choke them back.

Shamim on the side line, walking as fast as we are running, shouting something about jacuzzi and slush puppies.

Seeing our cheering team on the side line -- Sharim, Neda and mom running beside us.

59th street - an insane amount of people cheering.

Elizabeth speeding up, and me, begging her in my head to slow down, just please, for God's sake, slow down.

Re-entering the park at Columbus Circle and seeing ourselves on the jumbo screen.

The sudden realization that it's nearly over, that I can actually SEE the finish line.

The "100 yards left" sign.

Sprinting.

Crossing that finish line, stopping bent over and just sobbing because it's really, really over.

Realizing that both Elizabeth and I are smiling and crying and in shock.

Swearing on all things holy that I will never, EVER run a marathon again.

Walking ahead, getting our medal and blanket, posing for pictures and then starting the long long long walk to the trucks to collect our stuff.

Seeing coach Steve, getting a big hug and then walking some more.

And then, more walking.

And some more walking, BECAUSE IT'S NOT LIKE I JUST RAN 26.2 MILES, WHY NOT MAKE ME WALK ANOTHER 20 BLOCKS?

Exiting the park, finally ... and seeing family and friends.

The long ride home on the subway.

The fully-clothed, teeth chattering, ice bath I had to take.

Food. Finally, real, good, proper food.

The excruciating pain in my back, legs and feet.

The fact that I made it to the end with all my toe nails intact.

The amazing feeling of accomplishment that is still pushing strong, getting me through the pain which is also, still, lingering. Can I have some more drugs please?

So, in a couple of months, when that urge hits, to do something mad, here is a list of alternatives that I might like to consider, you know, just because I do have options, and really, who needs to run 3 marathons anyhow? So I could, for example...

Learn a new language.

Make all the recipes in my cook books, like theseladies are trying to do.